Hired Guns and Reluctant Roses
by Baldore
Summary: As a certain cocky smuggler takes a break from taking on the galaxy with only wits and a blaster, he gets a visit and an offer by an old friend. Someone he feared he'd never see again. (Male Smuggler/Nariel Pridence)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer; I only own Roman and the plot/story. Star Wars and TOR belong to their rightful owners.

Background; This takes place sometime after Tatooine story arc for the smuggler in The Old Republic. Assumed to be Light Sided and flirting with Nariel Pridence, but not Zare.

* * *

 **Hired Guns and Reluctant Roses**

* * *

Roman sat tiredly at the bar, nursing a drink. He was slumped against the wall, though absorbed in the simple act of his drinking. Despite the general liveliness about him, he seemed rather down.

It was odd for him. Normally he was the one taking on the Galaxy with nothing but his blaster, his ship, and his wits and charm. Though, the Wookiee helped out too. He other crew too.

In his free hand, he clasped a datapad. Roman's eyes stayed trained on it, reading the words. And rereading them. Then flipped to a second message and repeated the process several times. His distress seemed to grow each time.

The first one brought a slight smile to his lips. A message from Nariel Pridence, the Jedi from Tatooine. A thank you for his help in the matter of Diago and that Sith, Zare. Honestly though, it'd been his pleasure. It's been the most entertaining thing that'd happened in a while, and that was something.

And Nariel's company certainly didn't hurt. He might have grown a bit too fond of her during that mission. He didn't know whether it was how caring she'd been or naiveté. He ended up writing it off as simply her being able to handle herself and being a big help during those encounters.

It wasn't like he was fond of her in a serious romantic sense or anything.

Which brought him to the second message. Reading it caused a surge of an her through him and he flung his glass across the table, shattering it on the wall. That only made him feel worse and he through a few more credits on the table for a replacement.

The second letter was a message from the Jedi Council in response to his return letter Nariel. Well, his /multiple/ return letters. It was summed up to basically Nariel was no longer on Tython, having had left for a personal pilgrimage, and they lacked a way to get a hold of her.

Kriff, he couldn't even thank the lady for her help. What he wouldn't give for a chance to talk to her again...

"Wanton anger will only lead to your own destruction."

Great, now he was hearing her voice. He must have way stronger drinks than he'd thought. Though, hallucinations was a new thing to spring from his drinking. Maybe Corso was right and he did have a problem.

"Roman. May I have a seat?" The voice asked, making itself known again.

This prompted the smuggler to actually look up this time. Then rub his eyes. He nodded out of shock, scooting over in his booth to allow her room. For there, now sitting calmly beside him was a certain Jedi knight.

"Nariel?" He asked, unable to form a coherent thought or response to her sudden appearance.

"I'm pleased that you have not forgotten me," She smiled.

"But...the temple said you were on a personal pilgrimage. They didn't have any way to reach you." Roman gawked, slowly gathering his bearings. He needed to get a hold of himself. He was kriffing Roman Sondo, Smuggler extrodinare. Taking on the Galaxy only armed with his wit, charm, and an itchy trigger finger. He needed to say something witty, regain his clever reputation and dissuade his shock.

"W-what are you doing here?"

Well, close enough, Roman sighed mentally.

"The Force lead me here. It is..." Roman could have sworn he saw Nariel almost blush. But he was drunk and was probably just the booze talking. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise, Nariel." The smuggler recovered, motioning for her to sit across from him. "The Council said you were on some sort of pilgrimage or something."

"Indeed. I came here to Alderean to observe the war and try to calm the situation." Nariel said, taking him up on his seating offer. "I didn't expect to encounter you here."

"Ah, and here I thought you were following me," Roman smirked before reclining back. He'd managed to gain back his stature. He hadn't been all that drunk, more simply allowing it to run its course. Now that he had reason to be sharp, he'd 'sobered up.' "Though, I didn't think I'd get to see you again. It's good to be wrong."

"Agreed. After we defeated Zare, I have been unsure of myself. I wanted to speak to you about her," Nariel said slowly, as if not sure she wanted to be this blunt about it. "I wanted to know why you helped me instead of Zare. I know she offered you...her company in return for your help yet you helped me, when I offered nothing. Why?"

"Partially because it was the right thing. Partially because I couldn't stand to see a beautiful damsel- in- distress get hurt," Despite the blatant pass, Roman was being honest. He just wasn't one for saying what he meant in the way he meant it.

"I was hardly a damsel in distress but I do appreciate the concern." The Jedi frowned. "And I don't believe I ever properly thanked you. I owe you my life and I believe the Force has given me a way to repay that debt."

"No thanks necessary. You helped me out and I helped you out. That seems fair to me," Roman shrugged, fiddling with something on his jacket. He was finding it increasingly hard to meet Nariel's eyes. Something about them...

"I would like to join your crew." The Jedi stated as if Roman hadn't said anything.

The cocky smuggler stared, unsure if he'd heard correctly. "You'd like to..."

"Join you on your crew." Nariel repeated. "I am a Jedi so I won't take up many supplies and I do not need special quarters and I will be a significant asset in battle. In addition, I have special authority as a member of the order and can assist in that way as well."

"Uh, wait, I don't doubt you'd be a significant help but I can't believe a Jedi like wants to help, you know, me." The self proclaimed 'best shot in the galaxy' fumbled, trying to express his skepticism at such good fortune. "It just..."

"Do you...do you not wish me to join you?" Nariel asked, accidentally letting something suspiciously close to disappointment slip in.

"No! Just normally I have to rescue or coerce the lovely damsel to join me. Not the other way around."

"I believe you have already attempted both," The Jedi smiled. "It was just a delayed response."

"True." Roman smirked, relaxing a bit. "Soooooo. Should we we head back to the _Fair Lady_...?"

"I'll follow you there." The woman agreed, and in a fleeting moment of courage and rash action, gave the blushing smuggler a peck on his cheek before exploding into scarlet herself as they left the bar.

The galaxy was looking up for once.

* * *

Author's Note; This was inspired by, shocker, the Tatooine arc for Smugglers. Easily my favorite planet arc overall, I was upset when it ended. Both Pridence and Zare were interesting characters and I would infinitely prefer either of them on the crew opposed to Risha, who I found honestly pretty boring. I understand why it wouldn't have worked with coding and content wise but it cant stop me from wishing. Well, thanks for reading and tell me what you thought. Until next time, Baldore out!


	2. Chapter 2

Diclaimer; I own only my characters and the plot.

Part II; Kriffing Jedi

* * *

"Roman."

The smuggler paused his rounds of the ship, peeking into the room his name originated from. Nariel sat on the bunk she'd claimed, waving him over. "Can we talk...? If you have time of course."

"Can it wait? Bowie and I were about to make a supply run." Roman asked, jerking his his thumb in the direction of the loading ramp.

"Oh," The Jedi replied, a bit quieter this time. "Of course, I will wait here for your return."

"Captain, I hardly think that alcohol and failed attempts to pick up the local women qualifies as a supply run," Risha states with a smirk, appearing by the doorway.

"Hey, we've all gotta get out kicks somehow. You treasure hunt, Spar and Bowie fight, I unwind with some harmless R and R," Roman chuckled, apparently his plan being foiled.

"Rest and relaxation?"

"Or Roman and Riches." He quipped, before shoving his hands in his pockets. "Anyway, the Wookiee awaits. Have fun while I'm gone, ladies!"

"Mmm hmm," Risha nodded, watching Roman leave as his footsteps faded. Then peeked around the corner to make sure he wasn't eavesdropping, as he often did "So, Nariel, the rest of the crew is heading out to see the sights. You tagging along? It'll be fun, the sights, the sounds, making jokes about Gus. Nar Shaddaa is really someplace a stuffy jedi like you needs to see."

"I am going to pass," Nariel sighed, shifting on her bed to sit cross legged. "I need to meditate on. . . certain matters."

"A certain smuggler?" The other woman asked, grinning as the Jedi blushes lightly. "Join the club, then, Spar and I have already been there an bailed on that. I'll leave you to your thoughts then."

"Oh, and don't worry. I'll be sure to pick you up a souvenir. Oh, this'll be fun."

* * *

"Hello, gorgeous."

Nariel's eyes slid open, revealing a pair of blue eyes and accompanying face inches from her own. A scream ripped from her throat and she fell back in her bed, meditation forgotten.

"Ah, surely a woman as pretty as you has gotten compliments before. Surely it can't be /that/ shocking." Roman snickered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reclined back, grinning down at the brunette.

"Ah-no. . . uh, it. . . it wasn't that," The Jedi stammered, red and flustered.

"Hehe, right. This why I like you more than the other Jedi. Anywho, didn't you want to talk to me about something?"

"No, I don't know what you're talking about." She pouted, sitting up and drawing her knees in.

"Oh, really? So, you didn't want to talk earlier." Roman shook his head. "Come on Pridence, what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Humph," That seemed to irritate her further. She glared at him, barely moving, except for the steady rhythm of her breathing. Her hair was in disarray but she made no effort to fix it, just glowering unhappily underneath her long bangs.

"Come on, Priiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiidence," Roman grinned, drawing out her name with a great emphasize, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. Either he didn't notice her growing blush or just didn't say anything about it. Knowing the clueless smuggler, likely the former.

"Stop calling me that!" The Jedi finally snapped swatting his hand away.

The smuggler was thrown off balance, physically and mentally. "Stop calling you what?"

"Pridence! Stop calling me Pridence!" She said, still rather upset. "You call everyone else on the ship by their first name or even a nickname! But you always address /me/ formally, as Pridence. My names Nariel."

"That's not true-"

"It is." She glared. "Ever since I joined your crew. You've been only addressing me as Jedi or Pridence and giving me a wide berth or empty flirting. I'm sick of it."

"Nariel, I . . . " Roman floundered, trying to get his thoughts together. He certainly hadn't meant to tick her off. "I'm sorry, I was just..."

"Lead me on?" Nariel asked, frowning. "I do understand that you've been trying to court me."

"Well, that's one way to phrase it-" Roman said rapidly.

"You do realize that it is against the Jedi Code to have a romantic relationship."

"Woah, woah, are we still talking about calling you Nariel. . . ?"

"Yes. . . no." The Jedi frowned. "I'm just trying to find out what is going on."

"How about I call you Nariel from now on and we, uh, shelf the other stuff for now?"

"But-!"

"Good, see you later, Nar!" Roman nodded before leaping off the bed and reining out of the room. He ended up in his quarters, where he slumped against the wall, heart racing. It was still just flirting, nothing else. He was used to it. Even if it did feel. . . different with Nariel. Like he was actually trying for. . .something out of the relationship.

The smuggler really hated to admit it, but there was something there. In all seriousness, he flirted with a lot of women. Almost never amounted to anything, as in Risha's case, but somehow he felt. . . off around the Jedi sometimes. Like her humble, sheltered demeaned was endearing somehow. Heck, most of his non blatant flirting (well, even some of the blatant variety) seemed to just fly past her. It was just impossible to resist throwing an innuendo or comment her way.

Her words floated into his head again. "Empty flirting" or "courting" her.

It wasn't just empty flirting. He wasn't try to just lead her on like some Casanova son of a hutt. It was just friendly banter, right?

But was he really. . . courting her? Like a chivalrous knight or something like that?

How'd he get himself roped into this? Had his roguish actions finally gotten him into a situation where someone was bound to get hurt? The smuggler groaned.

Nariel Pridence. A beautiful, thorned rose in his side.

Kriffing Jedi.

* * *

Author's Note; So...I hadn't actually planned to continue this. I was gonna leave it ambiguous after that last one and call it a oneshot. But, I got a review that made me rethink it. So, I'm making it into a short story. It still wont be to long but her, if you like it, thank "DarthTyren" for the awesome review. Anway, until next time, Baldore out!


	3. Chapter 3

Diclaimer; I own only my characters and the plot.

Part II; Bending the Code

* * *

"Captain."

"Corso, what's up?" Roman asked, looking up from his work. "Did ya need something?"

"No. . . well, not exactly." He rubbed his head frowning. "You've just been really distracted lately. I just thought you might have something on your mind that you might want to talk about? Nariel, maybe?"

Clang!

"Kriff, dropped my hydro spanner," Roman swore, swiping the device off the floor. He adjusted it in his hands and looked back at his repairs.

"Captain. . ."

"Hey, I've not been distracted. I am one hundred percent functioning normally," Roman snorted, waving his hand. "You're just getting paranoid."

"You've been trying to repair the hyperdrive's data exchange with the navcomputer for the past hour."

"And?"

"It's not plugged in."

"I know that. . . I'm just. . . adjusting. . . ah! I'm just fine tuning it to make jumps faster," Roman said matter of factly after looking clearly flustered for a second. "Sooo, not distracted, nothing to do with Nar."

"Uh huh. And when we had the briefing this morning, you were staring at her the her time because you were 'inspecting the troops,'" Corso commented, clapping him on the back. Several times.

"I don't have to answer that," The blushing smuggler grumbled. He crossed his arms and faced his old friend.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you out," Corso said, shrugging. Then he drew something out of his pocket and dangled it in front of the Smuggler. "In fact, I came here to offer to let you have two tickets to a show on Nar Shaddaa but if you're not really _crushing_ on Pridence. . ."

Roman stared and tried to snatch them but his crew member yanked them away. "Give them here!"

"Say please, Captain!" Riggs chirped smugly, jumping out of reach.

"You dirty farm boy! Don't taunt me, Corso!" The captain retorted, tackling his old friend.

"Just say please!" Corso cackled, knowing how much his boss hated asking for favors. He's accept and imply he needed them, but the whole 'please' word was the plague to him.

At that moment, a certain Jedi walked in. "Roman, I was wondering. . . If. . ." She tapered as she took in the scene. The captain appeared to have Corso pinned and attempting to wrench something from his grasp as the exchanged insults and taunts respectively. "Never mind. I'll return when you two are. . . _free_."

Captain Sordoan noticed Nariel's entrance at about the same moment she exited. He rolled off Corso, scrambling to his feet. He was about to bolt after her when he felt Corso grabbed his arm. The mantellian was extended long the tickets to him. "Don't forget these, boss."

"Thanks, I owe you one," Roman said, taking the tickets and lightly smacking his head for the trouble. "Nariel, hold up!"

* * *

"He asked you on a date!" Risha grinned, clapping her hands. She got an evil twinkle in her eye. "I can't believe he asked you on a date. He never does that. Ohhhh, this is gonna be fun."

"It is not a date. He simply asked if I wished to accompany him to a stage production." Nariel frowned. Why were Risha and Akaavi so excited? "And what's going to be fun?"

"That's a date," Akaavi deadpanned. "As for the fun, I believe she is referring to preparing you for your date."

"But it's not a date. I am simply accompanying-"

"Save it, Nar." Risha cut in. "I know a date when I see one. And this **is** a date. And Akaavi is going to help me doll you up until Roman'll drool at the sight of you."

"I don't think I want him to be salivating if this is indeed a date." Nariel frowned. Once again, she wondered if the Galaxy would be so confusing if she'd chosen to spend more time with her fellow padawans instead of her studies when she was younger.

"It's an expression, Pridence." Akaavi corrected with a smile. Or more of a smirk. The Mandalorian didn't seem to do a lot of full blown smiling. "It means that he'd find you attractive."

"Oh. Well, I would be okay with that," Nariel blushed, rubbing her hands together nervously. Being...desired wasn't exactly something she was used to. It wasn't something the Jedi Code encouraged.

The thought led to another one that made her blood run cold. The Jedi outlawed romantic attachments. Did her relationship with Roman count? No, she thought. They weren't a couple and surely one date wouldn't count as a romantic attachment, if this outing was indeed one. Was she breaking her code?

"I knew there was a woman underneath all of that Jedi Code." Risha grinned as Nariel got nervous. "Now, first things first. Remember how I'd said I was going to get you a souvenir on that last outing? I think it's time I gave it to you."

The smuggling princess held up a deep blue dress. "Get changed and then we'll get started."

* * *

Roman glanced at his Jedi friend for what seemed like the millionth time as they walked out of the theatre. He was sure that the other duo of woman had helped her with outfit but that didn't lessen his shock. The smuggler had actually been expecting her to wear her usual Jedi robes on the date.

Boy was he wrong.

She'd shown up in some flowing knee length dress that seemed to accentuate her beauty as it cascaded down from the X shaped strap that looped around her neck. Her hair was done differently as well, collected in a bun in the back with two long wisps of hair flowing down either side of her face.

Which her devious assistants had given some light make up, lipstick and a blue color to her eyebrows. Roman had to do a double take when he'd first seen her. Heck, if it hadn't been for her indifferent (yet somehow still nervous) expression and lightsaber firmly placed on her hip, Roman would have thought she was her own identical twin.

But he'd managed to navigate the date this far without making a fool of himself. (Except the initial speechlessness and subsequent struggle to give her a fitting compliment) Yet, something still bothered him even as he hailed a speeder. She was acting like she was guilty of something.

"Nar, you okay? You seem kinda distracted. You know, distant. Everything alright?"

"I'm fine," The Jedi replied, not meeting his gaze but watching Nar Shaddaa pass. "Are we headed back to the _Lady_?"

"No, I thought we'd go out to eat. Get something besides rations and whatever Gus cooks up in the kitchen."

"But we can eat on the ship."

"I thought I'd treat you." Roman frowned.

"What about the rest of the crew?"

"They're big boys and girls. They can feed themselves. Now come on."

* * *

"-and **that's** how I ended up with a spaceship full of Gizka," Roman finished, chuckling merrily at his own story.

"I never knew that Gizka could be so terrifying," Nariel smiled and giggled. Then promptly looked rather mortified.

Which caused Roman to degrade into full blown laughter. "I knew it! You do have a sense of humor! You just hide it underneath all that Jedi code philosophy stuff."

"Even Jedi can have a sense of humor," She bristled, unused to being laughed at.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant it's good to see another side of you is all. You're normally so reserved. . . "

"I just think about what I say before I do it," She huffed defensively. Which just made Roman laugh harder and her get even more huffy. Finally, she angrily grabbed her drink and chugged it.

That sent Roman, who had paused in his laughing to breath, into rolling peals of mirth once more. Nariel gave him a look as he struggled for breath to explain, but only managing a word or two before cracking up again.

Finally, the smuggler took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "That's Rishi Sweet Wine. I can't believe you just downed it!"

"What?" The Jedi asked, though she felt some the effects. Like her senses were being dulled. But it'd tasted almost like a candy. Cocking her head slightly, she poured another glass and sipped it, now that she was aware of it, she could taste the alcohol under the loud candy taste.

Romans laughter died down before he abruptly. "Um, I'll be right back, Nar. Sorry." He said quickly before almost sprinting out of the restrain as his date just stared.

The smuggler burst outside, looking around wildly. His eyes darted around, scanning. But as his adrenaline high faded, he calmed slightly. He must be seeing things, just stressed or thinking about Nariel to much. Cuz he was losing.

Because he had just seen that Sith, Zare, outside the window, just watching. Until she met his eyes, winked and was gone. But now he couldn't find any trace of her, not by the window, not by the speeders. Heck, he even ran all the way around the building to check. He looked around one less time and sighed. His mind must be playing tricks on him.

He decided not to tell Nariel. No reason to get her worried over nothing, Roman decided as he walked back to the table. And promptly let his jaw drop.

Nariel was still seated at the table but had a glazed look on her face. And the Rishi Sweet Wine, the whole bottle, was gone. Roman stared, just taking in the scene. Until she noticed him, grinning widely. "Romaaaan! I thought you left me!" She greeted loyalty, turning some heads.

"You know I'd never leave," Roman frowned as he fumbled for the check. She was clearly drunk and he wanted to get her back to the ship where she'd be safe.

"But you ran out in such a hurry," She replied, looking at him with pulpy dog eyes.

"I, uh, just was. . . checking in on the crew at the ship." He lied, funneling credits on to the table. 'Kriff it," he thought, just dumping a sum on the table. "Come on, Nar, let's get back."

"Alright." The Jedi agreed, taking his outstretched hand. Then leaned heavily on him for support. "I feel kinda funny."

"Well, you downed enough alcohol to make a kaleesh jealous. Though I would have thought a Jedi would know better."

"I've got a little bit of a sweet tooth," She admitted, flushing guiltily.

"You don't say. Watch your feet," Roman smiled as he helped the inebriated Jedi into the speeder cab. He gave the spaceport number and leant back as they took off.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure on his arm. He looked over in surprise as he felt Nariel's soft locks on his shoulder, as she meant on him about to doze off.

"Roman?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think wanting to break the Code would make me a bad Jedi?" The words came out quietly.

"I guess it'd depend on the part." Roman said after a second. That was a bit out of left field. "Why?"

"Because. . . I think I'm falling for someone," The woman said, giving him a sweet smile.

His heart pounded loudly and he got a heavy feeling in his stomach. Was it just the booze or. . . ? "No, I don't think that makes you a bad-Kriff."

She was already out.

* * *

Roman gently laid Nariel on her bed. She hadn't woken up and he'd had to carry back to her quarters. As he turned to leave though, he felt her hand grab his wrist as she sat up.

"Roman?"

"Hm?"

The smuggler felt her lips graze his cheek in a haste kiss. "Thanks for tonight."

"My pleasure," he smiled as she pulled up her covers. The smuggler nearly skipped out of the room. As he reached his quarters, burst out laughing.

She was going to have the worst hangover ever in the morning.

* * *

Author's Note; Sorry for this massive delay, I was busy with life. But hey, you got a big update for it, some semblance of a plot is seeping in, AND I did a fanart of Nariel! (Link; img ur.c(om) / Z5MToKW just remove the spaces and parenthesis and it _should_ work. ) I hope you enjoyed this and I'd love to get some feedback or to chat with you guys! Until next time, Baldore out!


	4. Chapter 4

Diclaimer; I own only my characters and the plot.

 _Italics_ indicate _thought_ or _alien language_

Part IV; Scrapper Showdown

* * *

The lightsaber sizzled as it slid through the droid's chassis. It collapsed to the ground and Nariel withdrew her weapon from its ruined structure. Her weapon hummed as she twirled it around, deflecting a bolt aimed at her. It dissipated harmlessly on the ground and the Jedi drew her arm back.

As she prepared to throw her lightsaber, a flurry of bolts beat her to it. The droid sparked under the hail of hot plasma before finally exploding. Roman walked over to his recent kill and kicked it to make sure it was out. Then he blew dramatically on the barrel of his pistol and twirled the weapon before holstering it.

A quick survey confirmed for them that the last of the droid's were done for.

"Man, we are good," The smuggler grinned. "Though I really expected more resistance for this. I mean, an Imperial droid factory? And this  
is all they've got?"

"Agreed. I was hoping for more worthy foes," Akaavi Spar agreed, still clutching her battle staff. "I suggest that we set the charges and evacuate quickly."

" _I smell a trap. I will help the Mandalorian set the explosives_." Bowdaar roared, hefting his vibrosword over his back and grabbing one of the satchels containing their payload.

"Sounds like a plan. Nar and I will cover you guys from any backup from this side." Roman nodded, putting a hand to his earpiece. The device crackled to life as he spoke. "Risha, Gus, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Captain. How are things going?" Risha's voice bounced through.

"Dandy. Have the Lady primed to go. We're almost done here and something tells me we're gonna need a fast way out."

"Gus is already getting an escape route planned and I'm pulling the _Fair Lady_ around as we speak."

"Good, good. You two are the best. Pick up the other two first and then come get us." Roman sighed, nervously grasping his blaster. "See you in a bit." He said before turning to the Jedi by his side. "Nar, you sense anything with that jedi mumbo jumbo? I've got that sinking feeling."

"I wasn't going to say anything," She said after a second. "But I sense something off. As if something about this place is being obscured by the Force. Hidden."

"Captain, Bowdaar and Akaavi are safely onboard. Incoming to your position." Risha spoke into Roman's ear before he could think about Nariel's observation.

The smuggler nodded, looking out the bay doors. The sight of his ship made him smile in relief. But it suddenly vanished as the spaceports blast doors slammed shut. He spun around as Nariel's lightsaber blazed on. Their eyes wisped around the room for the source of the change. They didn't have to wait long.

Suddenly, black clad imperial troops swarmed into the docking bay. Roman rolled into cover as he fired pot shots into the throng. Nariel moved back to cover him, reflecting the imperial blaster fire back at the imperials. Several went down quickly but they dispersed, making them harder to combat.

"Roman, I believe that these troops were waiting to ambush us. It's likely that they were the disturbance in the force."

"No, dip, Sherlock!" Roman said derisively, priming a thermal detonator and hurling it among the troops. It detonated shortly after with a resounding boom, sending rubble and bodies flying in all directions. "Next time give me more of a heads up."

"I am sorry. They were cloaked from the Force and from me. I could not make out the threat," Nariel apologized, throwing her lightsaber and recalling it from the chest of the trooper it became lodged into. "It would not be unlikely if these troops were led by a Sith."

"Wonderful, cuz those guys are a bundle of laughs," Roman said blithely as he barely dodged out of the way of a stray blaster bolt. He hit his comlink again, trying to get through to the _Lady_. "Risha, Gus? Bowie, Akaavi, what's going on? We could really use a pick up right about now!"

Static. His signal must have been jammed. Roman swore. His blasters flipped up, twin streams of death flowing from him. As he blasted, he spotted a black cloaked figure in the middle of the group. They reached to their side and ignited a red beam.

The smuggler quickly moved his fire to them, but with several flashes of the red saber, the blasts went astray. Then he felt himself lifted off the ground, choking, as his impromptu nemisis raised their hand. Roman grunted, managing to fire one last shot.

The last thing he saw as his vision went dark was the shot struck the sith's shoulder as Nariel cut a swathe towards them.

* * *

"Unnnnngh. . . " Romans eyes opened briefly before immediately shutting them again on account of a bright light shining in his face. The rapid change seemed to burn his eyes. The smuggler groaned a second time, trying to move but felt himself being held up and restrained. The movement caused a sharp pain to explodein his side.

"Oh, good. The smuggler is finally awake." A gravelly voice laughed, then kicked him as he looked his eyes to see the boot connect with his side. Well, at least that solved the mystery of the pains source.

"Uhg, guys, really, I know I'm loved and all but if you wanted an autograph, you didn't need to go through all this effort-hhng!"

The third kick stopped his sarcastic comment short.

"Laugh while you can." The leader of the guard crew grinned evilly at him as they dragged him through the black halls of what seemed to be a starship. And distinctly Imperial. Wonderful. "Lord Zare will strip that from you soon enough."

"Zare. . . ?" Roman's eyes went wide. She was dead. He killed her. But, then maybe he hadn't been seeing things back on the date with Nariel. . .

"Nariel! Where's Nariel?" The smuggler demanded, glaring at the guards.

"The Jedi? She's here. Don't worry though. Zare wanted her alive as well." The imp chuckled coldly as doors to the bridge opened.

Among the dark black and red colors, Roman spotted his female crewmate. He was about to call out until he noticed how she stood. The strong Jedi stood limply, expression of weak shock as her eyes wide fixed on the figure on the bridge.

Roman swallowed.

The black cloaked figure of a very alive Vavaron Zare stared down at them maliciously from the top of the bridge.

* * *

 **Author's Note** ; Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Been busy and struggling with writing. And then my usual method of uploading isn't working correctly so it took roughly an hour longer than usual to fix the format of this chapter and get everything smoothed out. I apologize for any weird formatting that I may have missed but hopefully the promise of an actual plot coming soon makes up for that. As always, I'd love to hear any thoughts on the story or advice. Anyway, until next time, Baldore out!


	5. Chapter 5

Diclaimer; I own only my characters and the plot.

 _Italics_ indicate _thought_ or _alien language_

Part V; Slipping into Black

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Romans head swam as he stared. The Sith stared back, cocky smirk firmly on her face. Roman blinked slowly. Zare was still there when he opened his eyes again. Then he blinked again, as if that'd make the woman disappear.

It didn't work the second time either.

"Not exactly the reactions I was expecting. You two look like dull statues." Her voice mocked casually, crossing her arms. "After our close bonding, Roman, I would have expected a warmer welcome. Though, I do hold a little bit of a grudge for shooting me in the chest and then leaving me to die in a cave on Tatooine."

Roman shook his head, finally accepting that apparently that Zare was still alive and taunting him. "How are you even-"

"Alive? Months in a kolto tank and a new bionic arm." The Sith glared at him. She quickly changed expressions, grinning sultrily and leaned in close to Roman. "That can allllll be forgiven, you know. I know you were just mislead by that Jedi. A woman as great as me may look past that. That is, of course, if you redeem yourself and kill her now."

Fury bubbled through Roman but Nariel beat him to it. "Get away from him, you deranged psychopath!"

"Oh? Temper, temper, little Jedi. What does that code of yours state? There is no passion? There is no emotion?" The Sith laughed, taunting the Jedi. "Ms. Pridence, you seem to have been neglecting your Jedi teachings."

Nariel struggled against her cuffs, obviously wanting nothing more than to beat Zare. The Jedi grit her teeth, grinding them as she bit back a response. She didn't want to give the Sith satisfaction.

"What do you want, Zare?" Roman snapped at her. She'd ton through a lot of trouble to get them here. Well, an ambush. But that must have been a lot of trouble. His ego had already taken a beating finding out his Sith count was one lower than he'd thought, he'd like to keep it from further tarnishing.

"What do I want? Unlimited power, the Republic's finest cowering before me like the dogs they are, a planet to rule..." She said, feet clicking as she walked around the bridge before stopping before the smuggler. "From you though, simply revenge. I want you two to be broken, to feel the despair I did as I lay in that force-forsaken Tatooine cave, before you die."

"Kriff, you really are pathetic."

Roman suddenly felt himself pulled into the air, unable to breath. He clutched at his throat but to no avail. Zare's eyes flashed with rage.

"You...you're the reason I am part droid, steel instead of my perfect  
flesh." She hissed before slamming him to the ground, where he lay gasping for breath. "Your death will be delayed only so that I might have you watch as your precious Pridence dies before you. I shall rip the information I desire from her pathetic mind," The Sith hissed, lifting abide head to meet her hateful red eyes. "Then you die."

"Worst villain speech, ever." Roman coughed as he was released. "Of all time."

Lightning crackled, igniting Roman's nerves on fire as Zare's scream of anger, Nariel's scream of fear, and what Roman realized was his own scream of pain before things became blissfully black.

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Roman coughed, eyes sloshing open. His surroundings had changed. The large windows and red drapery of the imperial bridge where now dull gray. The cold, hard bench he was laying on confirmed his presence in a cell.

"My kriffing head..." He grumbled, adjusting his position to be sitting, leaning on the back for support.

His vision stretched over the empty area of the cell. It was rather empty room, a sole bench that seemed to double as a bed then a small fresher in the corner. Not the most regal furnishings he'd ever had. "Hello?" The smuggler yelled at the blue energy field that served as the door to his personal prison.

No response. He yelled again. No response.

He waited for a second before smiling. They didn't even bother to post a guard nearby. Not that he blamed them. There'd be one at the cell block entrench. Normally it'd be overkill to give one prisoner his own guard. Especially one who was unconscious. But most prisoners weren't Roman Sondo.

The Smuggler patted himself, taking inventory of what he had. They'd taken his weapon, his belt, datapad and several other assorted devices. All in all they'd done a pretty thorough job. But, they'd left them his clothes.

He smiled to himself and sat back down on the bench and slipped off his boots. Then grabbed the seams and yanked. Then did the same to the bottom, carefully tearing the material. As he did, several pieces fell out. Roman quickly picked them up and began fitting them together. Before long, he'd assembled a small vibroknife.

Twirling it, he approached the cell door. If was correct, then this was a standard imperial cell. Which meant it had a technical problem that there was a panel on the inside to access the power. It was idiotic but the Imps never fixed it because it was sealed off so prisoners couldn't reach if. Because most prisoners didn't get knives.

Roman slipped his knife into panel, popping it off and then impaling the blade into it and stepped back as it exploded in a small show of fire. Seconds later, the shield acting as his cell do fizzled and died, leaving Roman able to walk out into freedom.

Now shoeless and weapon less on an enemy ship, the smuggler darted out of the cell. His mind worked quickly, working out his next moves. Which consisted of a grand scheme of three steps.

Get a weapon.

Get Nariel.

Get the Kriff off of this ship.

He cracked his knuckles as he skulked through the halls. Things could possibly get a little messy...

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Author's Note: Sorry for the huge delay on this! I've been super busy and unfortunately I just never got around to reformatting this after FF messed with the file sooooo it just kept getting delayed. :/ Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and until next time, Baldore out!


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